


And You May Have Thought It Tragic

by Xparrot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Crack, Canon-Typical Winchester Death, Gen, Present Tense, Season 11, finale speculation, hence the CNTW, since I really don't know if it counts as char death or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/pseuds/Xparrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the sake of the world, Dean's made his choice.  </p><p>Like that's going to last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You May Have Thought It Tragic

**Author's Note:**

> Not directly spoilerific for the finale, as it hasn't aired yet, so this is mostly speculation based on the ep preview. And I'm pretty sure this is not how it will actually end--putting aside other spoilers, they'd be silly to pop the cork on the threat of the Empty this soon; it's too narratively useful. But when has canon ever stopped me before?

This has to be a Winchester first. Something going according to plan—it's one for the record books for sure. Sammy can put a gold star next to this account in the Men of Letters annals.

(Do they have annals? They're a secret society, they must, right? Sam's never mentioned writing up any, but that's probably because he thinks Dean would make the obvious juvenile mispronunciation of "annal." Which, in his defense, Dean totally would. But in Dean's defense, who besides Sammy wouldn't?)

The point is, everything's worked out. Maybe Sam was onto something with his whole "God is on our side" argument. They've taken out Amara—Chuck, too, but that was how it had to be. God isn't dead, but he and his sister are both out of the picture. Maybe forever, maybe just until the end of the universe. Either way, they're gone, but the world is still here, still spinning.

They did it. They won. Maybe the biggest win of their lives. Of any human being's life.

Which makes it ironic, that Dean isn't living to see it.

The real bitch of it is, he wants to. There have been times before that he considered quitting, when he'd gotten so sick and tired of everything that he was ready to toss in the towel. He'd almost said yes to Michael because it had sounded like such a relief, to have a last word and know he'd never be able to say anything again after. He'd been on the verge of letting Dick Roman make Earth his sushi platter, because the world as it was hadn't looked much better to him.

But now, when he's actually made the right call for once, when he's going out as a hero and can walk away with his head held high—now, when Billie holds out her hand, Dean doesn't take it.

"Come on," Billie says. "You knew this was the end of the line when you got on the train."

"Not yet," Dean says. "Please, not yet."

"Really?" Billie arches an eyebrow at him. "You're a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but I didn't think coward was one of them."

"Can't you give me a break? I just helped save the universe here."

"It doesn't work like that," Billie says. "Life's not fair; why should death be?"

"Says the Reaper who's about to toss me into the Empty, to get payback for her boss."

Billie nearly smiles, not defensive but with genuine amusement. "This isn't about any vendetta."

"Uh-huh."

"If I wanted revenge, there are so many more things I could do with you," Billie says. "You should see what some of my associates have in mind, after the stunts you've pulled. And there's no one up top to say no. But we're not demons, or angels either. We're not in this for the entertainment value or the soul power; we have a job to do."

"And you can do it," Dean says. "Just give me a moment, all right?"

Billie widens her eyes in feigned surprise. "And here I thought you'd had a moment. Look, there's another one right now. And another..."

"Can't I challenge you to a chess match or something? Round of pool? Blackjack?"

"That was the old playbook," Billie says. "We had a regime change recently—you might've heard. No more games now. Just Reaping."

"Right," Dean says.

"Never had much patience for those deals anyway. Also I'm rated as a grandmaster, if it makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't," Dean says. He shuts his eyes, takes a breath—or the illusion of both; his actual eyelids and lungs remain unmoving on the body lying behind him. "Okay, here's the thing. I'll go with you. Just please, give me a chance to—"

"To what? Say goodbye? You already said it; I was there. Or did you mean, give your brother and your angel a chance to resurrect you?"

"It's not that," Dean protests. "Chuck made it clear that this would be a one-way trip; Sam and Cas know better than to try."

Billie arches her other eyebrow. "If I'd been born—which I wasn't, but if I had been, it wouldn't have been yesterday."

"Okay, it's not _just_ that," Dean allows. "If you're really that concerned, do your stop-time trick. Let me savor this—we saved the world, and this is my last chance to enjoy it."

"Oh, I've already hit pause," Billie says. "As soon as we got the all-clear."

"So what are you worried about? Isn't this part of the Reaper gig, helping someone come to terms with the whole shuffling off the mortal coil thing?"

"It is," Billie agrees. "But you've had a lifetime facing down death to come to terms with it and then some. And I'm not arrogant enough to underestimate you." She looks around the blasted surroundings. "Case in point, this most recent object lesson."

"So, I take it you won't be loaning me your scythe?" Dean essays a smile.

Billie doesn't return it. "Not so much. And you can drop the smirk. You're charming, kid, but you're not that charming. Now, shall we?" and she extends her hand again.

Dean takes a step back. "Hey, you're not that charming yourself—you haven't even bought me dinner."

"Come on, Dean," Billie says, not angrily, at most chiding. Like a parent trying to persuade a sleepy toddler to go to bed. "It's time, and you know it."

"Okay." Dean takes another illusory breath. "Okay, I'll go with you. Just let me check on Sam before I split."

Billie folds her arms. "According to the employee handbook, I should be telling you that the dead trying to hold on to the living only ever makes things worse. But you've hunted enough ghosts to know that already. So what do you want me to tell you? That your kid brother's all grown up now? That death is a natural part of existence? Or just that whatever you boys have got cooking up, you're not getting out of this one. Not this time."

She hardly even sounds annoyed. They just took on the Darkness and saved all of Creation, but that matter-of-fact statement might be the scariest thing Dean's faced all day.

"The one thing I'm not going to do is take you to see Venti," Billie continues. "I'm here to convince you to go, not to find you more reasons to stick around."

"It's not like that," Dean tries to argue. "It'll, you know, help put my soul to rest..."

"Believable." And for a second she's actually smiling, just slightly, and Dean had underestimated the fear factor before. There's a reason why Reapers are supposed to be Grim. "You really do think this is my first rodeo, don't you?"

"I didn't—"

"Besides," Billie says, turning away to look toward the entrance, and her voice drops so that Dean is not entirely sure he actually hears her say, "it's not like I have to bring you to him anyway."

"What do you—"

"Speak of the devil," Billie says, nodding at the tall figure appearing in the entryway. "Or a former vessel thereof."

Dean's unbeating heart breaks, to see Sam walk in and stop dead (so to speak) at the sight before him. The body, laid out motionless, burned and bloody—not the first time Sam's seen his corpse, but the first time Dean's been here for it, and he doesn't want to watch. But this might be his last glimpse of his brother. So he makes himself face Sam, braced for the pain he's going to see.

Except instead of crumbling, Sam just sighs and says, "Oh, good."

"...Good?" Dean echoes. "I'm dead, and that's—"

"—Good that I caught you in time," Sam says, and grins. Right at Dean. "I was afraid I was going to miss you. Hey, Billie."

"Hey," Billie says.

"Wait," Dean says. "You can see her—you can see me?" He looks back and forth from the Reaper to his brother. Sam looks fine. Calm, strong, confident.

Also distinctly not frozen in time. "Sam, what did you do?"

Sam's expression is only mildly abashed. On the scale of smoothies-instead-of-beer to releasing-Lucifer, he might've been confessing to adding wheatgrass to the blender. "I didn't really do anything; Cas handled it. He's quick. And precise—it was pretty much painless."

" _What_ was painless?" Dean crosses to his brother in three long strides, grabs Sam's arms and looks him up and down. He appears healthy and uninjured—as solid and real as Billie looks. As Dean looks, in spite of the body on the floor. "Sam, tell me you didn't—that you—this wasn't the plan!"

"We didn't have a plan, Dean," Sam says, maddeningly calm.

"We totally did!"

"You mean, have you take out Amara and get dragged off to the Empty?"

"And then get what's coming to me, yeah!"

"That was _your_ plan," Sam says. "Not mine, not Cas's."

"Wasn't that the theme for this party, we let everyone make their own choices?"

"Exactly," Sam says, nodding. "So you made your choice—and now this is my choice."

"But this isn't what I wanted," Dean says. "You know it's not," because what the hell point is there to saving the universe, if Sam's not going to be in it afterwards? He swings back around to Billie. "You send him back now—put him back where he belongs, and I'll go with you on the spot, no more dragging my heels. I'll jump into your damn void myself!"

"I told you before like I'll tell you now," Billie says. "No deal. That goes for you, too, Stretch."

"I guessed as much," Sam replies. "That's not why I'm here."

"It's not?" Dean says, "So you and Cas figured out—?" He hadn't needed to stall after all; he knew Sammy wouldn't be wasting any time, but that was even faster than he'd expected.

But Sam lets his shoulders slump slightly. "Sorry—we were looking, but with everything else going on, we hadn't gotten anywhere. And from the little we did find, the Empty is a one-way trip."

"I could have saved you the trouble, if you'd been listening back when I first said hello." Billie says. "Don't say I didn't try."

Sam shrugs, meeting Dean's eyes. Still unconcerned. "So it's impossible. You know what that means."

Dean only hesitates a moment. "It'll take two years instead of one?"

"My money's on five months," Sam says. "You can confirm with Cas when we get back. He's holding the pot."

Dean opens his mouth. Stops, and starts again. "When 'we'?"

"You decided to let yourself get taken to the Empty," Sam says. "Your choice. But whether you're going alone—that's not your call."

"No—Sam, no! You can't do this!"

"Like you wouldn't try to do the same thing," Sam says. "Oh right, you did—Billie told me about your talk, last time, that job with the werewolves."

Dean glares at Billie. Billie tilts her head, unfazed.

"So what exactly did you expect me to do?" Sam says. "After everything, you still think you have the monopoly on this? That you're the only one who can put your life—your death—on the line for family?"

"The man's got a point," Billie says.

Dean glares harder. "Feel free to stay out of this."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Billie remarks. "Since I'm already in the middle of it."

"So you're just going to go along with this? Toss us both into your cosmic sewer together?"

"Going along with it? Green-eyes, I was planning on it. Two birds with one stone—two goldfish with one flush."

"Saves you a trip, huh," Sam says.

Billie nods, lets one corner of her lips curl up. "Besides, it's insurance. Even if one of you fails, odds are the other one won't."

"Fails?" Dean repeats.

"At what?" Sam follows up.

Billie's smile widens a fraction. "File that under, for me to know and you two to find out. Now. Last words to go along with your last breaths, and then let's get this show on the road." She snaps her fingers, and the utter, timeless silence is swept away by the rustle of wind through leaves, muffled voices, sirens in the distance.

On the floor behind him, Dean's body releases a final choking gasp. Rather than watch that macabre display, Dean shoots Sam a look. "You know, I was counting on you to get me out of this, Sammy."

"I know," Sam says. "But who knows, it might be easier from the other side. And if it isn't—then you'll need help even more. And Cas will leave the lights on for us in the Bunker."

"So what's his bet, anyway? Since he's heard of the Empty already..."

"Um." Sam looks vaguely discomfited. "A century and a half."

"Cas is expecting to wait for us for a hundred and fifty _years_?"

"He didn't seem too bothered—told me it will just fly by."

"I hope he remembers to dust," Dean mutters. "And he better park my baby in the safest corner of the garage."

"It's not going to take us that long," Sam says. "Hell, Heaven and Purgatory couldn't hold you; the Empty's not going to be any different."

"But you didn't trust me to get out of this one myself," Dean says.

"It's not about trust." Sam shrugs. "I just didn't feel like waiting. Not this time."

Dean thinks for half a second about the year when Sam was in the Cage. "Yeah, waiting sucks."

"Come on, boys," Billie says, holding out her hands. "It's time you're off."

He glances at his brother, gets a nod in reply. The sooner they're gone, the sooner they'll be back.

Dean and Sam reach out together and each take one of Billie's hands. There's a flash of light, and then—


End file.
